


Perfection, Personified

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (for a long time), (for a short time atleast), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Backstory, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Katsuki Yuuri, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Character Study, Child Abandonment, Depression, Falling In Love, Family, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Long, M/M, One long character study mixed with a plot and story, Poor Katsuki Yuuri, Poor Life Choices, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, Therapy, Tragedy, Unreliable Narrator, long fic, trying not to spoil here, well a little, wishes don't always come true
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuuri's beyond focused.Victor thinks it's a little unhealthy, the way he treats figure skating as his life and his life as but a means to an end.Yuuri's committed, though. It's the only way he knows how to survive.In which Yuuri grew up sans safety net, and the streets taught him two extremes: all, or nothing.





	1. I'm a good boy, Ma'am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all he can do to turn onto his stomach, cover his face with an arm, and hope his tears don’t freeze on the ice.

It's Yuuri's first time on the rink. Actually, it’s not even remotely his first time on the rink. But it feels like it--oh god, does it feel like it.

His legs are shaking. He can't remember where his body parts are, let alone where they should be, and he feels alone and he feels the rush of a crowd around him at the same time, in his ears, in front of his eyes (his eyes are closed, but he has always felt more than he has seen, always intuited before finding concrete proof, always understood the musicality in the choreography before the logistics), in the tension in the air. The contrast is sickening, the anxiety crushing.

He’s alone because he’s not good enough. Nobody wants to watch him skate, nobody wants to support him, but they are all there to watch him fail. They, after all, can’t expect anything more.

He opens his eyes during a spin and the stands are a monotone swirl.

There’s no one there.

His name is Katsuki Yuuri and he’s a failure.

He’s Yuuri and he’s a failure.

He’s Yuuri and—

and—

and he crashes to the ground and lays there until the ceiling blurs into indistinct colors. It’s not the first time he’s fallen, but it’s the first time he’s fallen like this.

It’s all he can do to turn onto his stomach, cover his face with an arm, and hope his tears don’t freeze on the ice.

 

* * *

  


When Yuuri’s five, his parents make him katsudon for the first time.

He’s always been a picky eater, but his parents have been nothing but kind about it. It’s a family tradition to make a platter of sushi the day someone turns 5, each a different type. Yuuri’s been told (fondly) that he took a bite of only 4, turning his nose up at the smell of every other. His family laughed and ate the rest.

When he tried katsudon, it was much the same.

They never could afford to waste food, but Yuuri was a (the) baby and they indulged him. Yuuri’s been told this and guessed the last part, but he’s left with only threads of memories of the incident. Like most children, he hardly realized he couldn’t remember what had happened, and it phased him for less than a second.

Later, he realizes that he doesn’t have memories to sacrifice to the procession of time.

He’s read that memories of smell are extremely strong—something about how they directly connect to some part of the brain that has something to do with recollection.

He remembers the smell of katsudon. More importantly, he remembers the first time he tasted it almost perfectly.

His family had sat around him, and Mommy had been happy and was talking about how the business was doing better than usual. They would need to invest in some advertising, and turn the wave of good fortune into a tide. It was always her favorite saying, and Daddy’s was to make your own luck. They joked that when they realized that even their favorite sayings matched, they knew they were soulmates.

Mari had looked at him and rolled her eyes, already 12 and over their parent’s much beloved and retold tales of their relationship. Yuuri, for his part, was still enthralled.

He hadn’t liked it then, and hadn’t formed any particular attachment later on, so he was surprised to find himself craving it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Katsudon becomes his comfort food.

  


* * *

  


When he turns six, his parents buy him a puppy, and figure skating lessons. He’s been begging for both for months.

Several of the people who had visited their hot springs had brought their puppies. One in particular was brown and fluffy and perfect, and he played with Yuuri as his owner bathed in the springs. They bounded together within the confines of the building, happy in their own imaginations and each other’s company.

But then his owner called, and the puppy bounded out the door.

He’d only stayed a day, and Yuuri was heartbroken. He had always given his heart much too quickly. Perhaps it’s why he’s always left behind.

He was named Vicchan, and so Yuuri names his Vicchan, too. The resemblance is uncanny. He hopes that that’s where the similarities end.

But Yuuri never learns, because Yuuri has a puppy crush on Yuuko, and Yuuko has a puppy crush on figure skating.

Yuuri thinks Yuuko is pretty and eight and sweet and mature and nice and she stands up for him.

Yuuko thinks figure skating is pretty and timeless and lovely and mature and wonderful and it’s something she’s good at.

Their crushes evolve into love.

  


* * *

  


People often warn against buying young children dogs or cats.

Hamsters and fish can be replaced without notice, and for an exceptionally observant child, well—

—Goldie’s hair is just getting a little darker. Just like yours, honey!

—Oh, Fishy is a little more energetic today? He’s just excited to see you!

—He’s just sleeping, sweetheart.

—He’ll like swimming in the ocean more, so I set him free. Don’t you know? The toilet connects to all the water in the world.

But dogs and cats, they’ll break their hearts, and it’s nothing a parent can protect them from.

And dogs and cats, they’re so much work. And young children don’t always treat their pets okay.

“I’ve forgotten to feed a fish or two in my time,” says one parent to another, “but a cat or dog…it would break my heart.”

“And they’ll bite, if someone pulls too hard.”

“And they bite, of course.”

Yuuri’s a sweet child. So when Vicchan nips him for tugging his tail, he insists that he’s just protecting himself. He’s never too rough again. Vicchan is never too rough, period.

A local comments on it once. “I’m surprised that you let a child that young have a dog, and let them play without supervision.”

Daddy smiles politely. “Don’t you know, Ma’am? Our Yuuri’s a good boy.”

  


* * *

  


Yuuri turned six in November, and that means he will go to school in April. It’s first grade and he thinks he’ll hate it.

Mari hates it, and though they don’t have similar tastes, she tells him that this is nearly universal.

He has 5 months to make the most of figure skating lessons, before he’s distracted by work and can’t go every day. The beginner class he is enrolled in is made up mostly of 4 and 5 year olds. He tells himself he will catch up, and join Yuuko across the rink. She started a few months before him, and she’s already one of the best in the next level up.

He knows he can do it, with the confidence of someone who’s never had a chance to fail.

(He does it.)

He misses the confidence later, when failing’s not an option.

(Of course it’s the choice he makes, anyway. He’s warned you already.)

  


* * *

  


He joins figure skating lessons in November, and is the best in Yuuko’s (and his, now) level by February. Come March, he does ballet instead. He loves it, even if not as much, and treats it like a challenge.

Come April, and he starts school. Ballet lessons move later in the evening. Mari’s told him he’ll hate school, and for this slight, he’s inclined to agree.

But…he loves it? He loves it. It’s another challenge, and Yuuri’s always wanted to prove himself to those he loves. School is like one big competition that everyone cares about. His teachers are nice, if stern. They warm up to him quickly, because Yuuri’s bright. At first they think he’s shy or stupid, and can’t seem to tell which. Probably his fault for squeaking, turning red, and being unable to answer a question--not for a lack of knowledge, but rather nerves-- when called on the first few times. His test scores, however, come in at the very top of the class.

Teachers stop calling on him, but he understands the material easily, and now they understand that too.

He has a bit of a hard time making friends. He’s not the most sociable person, and he never quite mastered interpersonal skills. How was he supposed to know that he shouldn’t have cut that boy off when he started saying the wrong answer? Honestly, didn’t people want to learn? Ok, he probably should have known that was rude. And he shouldn’t have been such a know-it-all. Maybe he shouldn’t speak up in class, even though his teachers had encouraged it previously. He can’t seem to find a right average.

He finds it funny, later, that presentation is harder for him here than technical performance.

  


* * *

  


In another world, Yuuri always tells people that Minako introduced him to figure skating, but really it’s figure skating that introduced her to him. His parents can’t pay for the figure skating lessons anymore, and he spends hours crying into Vicchan’s fur. He wishes that he had better parents, parents that had more money, that weren’t holding him back. For one horrible second, that thought flashes through his head, and he’s immediately guilty. He knows he has the best parents.

Mommy is really sorry, but the hot springs aren’t that popular now, and food is more important than figure skating. He’s inconsolable, as much as he doesn’t blame them. He’s inconsolable, because Yuuri now has a crush on figure skating, and he loves it. Not just for Yuuko, but because he loves the grace and the power, the beautiful dichotomy and blending of sports and art, adrenaline rush and calming sensation, danger and security, rawness and façade.

Mommy does not understand his love for figure skating, but she understands her love for him, and she knows that she would do anything to help him stop crying.

Yuuri knows this with the confidence of someone who has never lived unloved.

He misses it later, when he knows—

Well, he never starts missing it at a certain point in time. He never stops missing it, period.

Mommy’s parents died young, too. She would have understood him, but by the time he shared her tragedy, well— she rather was the tragedy, wasn’t she?

Daddy is the same. When they met each other, they knew they were soulmates, after all, and it’s not just opposites that attract. Mommy and Daddy had lives framed by two major tragedies. At least they faced the second together.

But Mommy and Daddy understood the necessity of familial support, so they gave their all to Yuuri and Mari. When they couldn’t pay for Yuuri’s figure skating, they found other options. They don’t have the money for skating, and by all rights they shouldn’t have the money for dancing, either. But Minako’s an old friend, and she’ll teach him. She always hated seeing potential go to waste.

When, a few months later, she tells him that he’s an excellent dancer, but an even better figure skater (“Not technically speaking, no. You’re out of practice on the ice. And I’m not saying that you don’t love dancing, Yuuri, or that you shouldn’t continue in it, or even that I won’t teach you. I’m just saying what you’ve always known—figure skating was your first love, and it will be your greatest.”), Yuuri’s not surprised.

His life has come full circle, once again (though sometimes, he does wish it would go somewhere).

  


* * *

  


When he’s seven years old, his parents ask if he’d like to go somewhere.

“Nothing fancy.” Mommy suggests, “Just, perhaps a drive out to Fukuoka. We’ll make it a road trip, see some sights.”

“Yes!” Yuuri jumps up enthusiastically. He always has liked traveling. It stays with him.

This trip will be the first time that Yuuri travels outside of Hasetsu. Fukuoka’s a city, and he thinks it’ll be very different. He doesn’t think that this means his life is going somewhere, of course, but he does like the idea of a change, even if it’s for less than a day.

They rent a car, and they don’t make it to Fukuoka by the end of the day.

With this trip, his life does go somewhere, and the change lasts for much longer than a day. He didn’t want it to.

  


* * *

  


They hit a pot hole, and one of the tires are done for. By the time they manage to get a new tire on (a process that involves much guess and check, given that this has never happened to any of them before, and by the end, Yuuri can certify that mechanics was not something guess and check was meant to happen with), it’s dark.

They don’t have the money to get a hotel room for the night, so the trip is scrapped. They turn around and head home.

Mommy and Daddy haven’t left Hasetsu in a while, either. As long as the kids, really. Mommy’s a little rusty at driving, so her and Daddy switch out on the way home. It turns out that driving is tiring, especially if you haven’t done it in a while.

As it turns out, driving in the night is hard, especially on the back roads where there aren’t good street lights.

As it turns out, nobody liked any of these conditions, and so the driving was a little reckless.

As it turns out, somebody else had the same thought.

  


* * *

  


Yuuri’s the sole survivor.

Mari dies on impact, same as the driver in the other car. Yurri’s glad there were no passengers.

Mommy dies on impact, and Daddy is unconscious on impact. He finds out later that he bled out within minutes.

Yuuri finds he can’t rouse any of them, and stumbles out of the car. He doesn’t remember calling 119, but it must have been him.

He has small cuts along his arm and some bruises across where his seatbelt was, but he’s released from the hospital in a few hours. They keep him that long mostly for the shock, and also because they have no idea what to do with him.

He doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t know what to do either.

  


* * *

  


Yuuri’s seven. It’s not the first time he’s fallen, but it’s the first time he’s fallen like this.


	2. He loses himself today.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the early morning hours of April 10th, 2009, five people were involved in a car crash. Four never lived to see another day. None walked away.

They drive him out of the hospital, tell him they have somewhere for him to go.

Platitudes and pity are all they have to offer. He wants substance.

“Where are we going?”

“…You’re going to live somewhere new.”

His family is gone, their love taken with them. And he’s heard of this, heard of what happens to orphans. They live in orphanages.

…That’s all he knows, actually. He’ll have to google it.

“Poor kid.”

The empathy is cloying, suffocating. They don’t really know.

The indifference is devastating. They don’t even _try_ to know.

If the pity was making him claustrophobic, it was nothing compared to the indifference.

It’s difficult to turn the feeling into words, but the indifference is agoraphobia, is the feeling of there being no one else in the world, of drifting in space where even sound cannot penetrate, of watching the Earth below him and the distance increasing.

In that moment, in his heart of hearts, he knows. There is no one, no one, no one else for him.

He doesn’t want it to be true, but he dreads it.

 

* * *

 

He’s proven right, sooner than later. He doesn’t have much in the way of immediate or even distant family. Tragedy has been passed down through the generations, as inevitable in their genes as the dark hair or the tendency to put on weight.

He doesn’t know the name of every cousin twice-removed or great-aunt-in-law that may exist, and his ability to do so only deteriorates as time goes on. But the people still alive? They’re as good as strangers, and it’s a fact not nearly so fluid as a memory.

 

* * *

 

There’s documentation and driving and discussions of depressing dwellings and deceased daughters and dealing with disaster.

More than anything, there’s a draining of disposition in his soul, the proceedings of the day dredging up misery and dread. Souls are often depicted as clear, sometimes black (especially the evil ones). Yuuri thinks his is now a murky brown, full of sand instead of clear and reflective.

He loses himself today.

 

* * *

They don't tell him anything, let alone enough. He doesn't know where he's going, what's going to happen, where his parents or sister are going to go (gone already, he knows, but the bodies still matter, to him at least), what's going to happen to Vicchan, if he can see Minako, if he can still dance, where he's going to go to school, what's going to happen to the onsen--

He has his first panic attack in the backseat of a car, surrounded by bureaucratic proceedings.

 _He needs to know._ He needs to stop being ignored. He needs them to stop sugar-coating. He needs to know who they are.

It doesn't happen.

He has his first panic attack on the 10th of April, 2009, and he ends the day in a child care institution.

Adoption is not a common concept, not between adult and child, at least, not outside of adult employers adopting their adult workers.

Foster care is rare, as well.

Here, Yuuri is no outlier. He is treated just like thousands of others, and just as procedure dictates.

There doesn't need to be an error for something to go wrong. 

When you lack an error, that means that the problem is institutionalized, that it has systematically destroyed hundredsthousandsmillionsoflives.

Somehow, it's better, a statistic rather than a tragedy.

* * *

 

He has his panic attack, cries himself to sleep, and wakes up in Fukuoka.

He’d snort at the irony if he could, but snot is a surprisingly effective snort-deterrent. So are tears, really.

He’s at the institute, now. Night hasn’t fallen, but he can’t stay awake any longer. There will be answers in the morning.

He can’t sleep, though. There’s a bed but no rest.

He’s got four walls, but they’re blue instead of green. He always hated the lime green of his room, but he’d give anything to see them now. Blue should be the calm of the ocean, the comfort of the ever-lasting sky. Now, it’s the color of anger and pain, of ever-lasting loneliness and the nerve-wrecking feeling of uncertainty.

There are posters, of pop bands, animals, and sports stars, but not of dogs and skaters and dancers.

There’s a house plant, but it’s something with white flowers instead of a cactus.

There’s a window, just as noise-repellant as in Hasetsu. Every noise filters through, those of feral cats and busy streets and noisy cars, but nothing even like the bubbling of water from the springs and the bird song of the country.

Fukuoka’s a city.

It’s the first time he’s been to the city, but he finds himself lost in resentment instead of wonder.

Everything feels _wrong_ , here.

It’s finally hitting him.

He lost his family.

But he also lost his home, his town, and his _life._

In the early morning hours of April 10th, 2009, five people were involved in a car crash. Four never lived to see another day. None walked away.

* * *

 

 

He’s never shared a room before, but it seems as if he’s going to have to. There are three other beds, all with signs of occupation. There’s no one else in the room.

It’s 10:00 A.M. on Friday though, and spring break had just ended, school coming back into session for the start of April. They were probably all there. His parents had let him and Mari skip school on Friday—

—to come here. Again, he’d _laugh_ if he wasn’t crying.

He’s been awake for more than 24 hours. He knows that his thoughts are starting to get more and more disconnected, that he’s drained himself so much he doesn’t have the energy to feel sleepy.

But he needs answers, and he’s better off fighting for those than trying to fight himself to sleep.

There are a lot of things to worry about, and he figures he better make a list.

He likes lists. They remind him of his mother’s recipes, and his father’s shopping list, and the to-do lists Mari used to make.

He needs a pen only, with which to jot notes; something this important can stay on his arm instead of paper.

  * He was currently with Minako in anticipation of the road trip. Yuuri was told that he was going to a new place to live, so presumably this was his new home. He’d have to go get him. But then, how would he take care of Vicchan all by himself?
  * Oh God, Minako. Was she told about the accident? Maybe she could help him take care of Vicchan. He wants to see her. How soon could he?
  * Speaking of roommates, school. He knows when you move you usually change schools. Where was he going now?
  * His stuff. How and when was he supposed to get it from the house?
  * New house. Was this actually where he lived now? Permanently? How long was permanently? He knows that it is a child care institution, but what did that actually mean?
  * Old house. How about the onsen? It was closed for the day since they were gonna be on holiday. What was going to happen with that? Who was going to run it? How far was Fukouka from Hasetsu, again?
  * Where were they? He knows dead people don’t come back, and that they are cremated and then buried. But how was that going to happen?
  * Dancing. Could he still take lessons?
  * Ice skating. He may not have been able to do lessons any more, but he still went to the rink frequently and just skated. He practiced what he had learned, and tried to copy Yuuko, who’d show him things from class. Yuuri feels a burning desire to get on the ice. It’s always soothed him, and he needs it more than ever now.
  * Yuuko. He wants to see her, too.



Armed with a plan instead of panic, he troops downstairs. Someone ushered him into the room, so someone must still be there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit a difficult time in my life. I'm back, and I'm committed until the end now. I will update twice a week, but the days are to be determined as I play around with what works. You're still getting two updates a week though, no matter what I eventually decide. So sorry for the long wait. 
> 
> Beta highly wanted and needed. Story's fine without, but man would I love it if someone's interested. This is gonna be a long ride, and while I proof read, I'm sure I miss stuff, and sometimes I have shit ideas and need someone to tell me that.
> 
> I don't live in Japan, so obviously I am taking some cultural liberties, but I'm trying to stay true to it, and this is the best I've got from research. Feel free to let me know if I mess up. The stuff about adoption is all on the internet, as well as child care, though I could not find much about how orphaned children are transferred. That part is complete fiction. 
> 
> Adoption: http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/japanese-adoption-rates-majority-adult-men-a7524301.html  
> Child care: https://www.hrw.org/news/2014/05/01/japan-children-institutions-denied-family-life  
> School: http://web-japan.org/kidsweb/explore/schools/index.html  
> My reference for Yuuri's room (changed the posters, since Victor's not a thing yet): http://yurionice.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Ystjhinjry/what


End file.
